Wit and Wry
by AlwaysEatTheRude21
Summary: What does a missing Dwarven daughter, a diary, a painting that isn't what it seems and mistimed joke all have in common? Harri Potter. Moral of the story? Durin's should never joke and Harri should always, without exception, stay away from people's journals ... It's detrimental to everyone's health. Kili/Fem!Harry/Fili
1. Prologue

Harri Potter hugged the ceramic pot of the large Fauna closer to her chest, almost dropping it as her muscles strained, elbows cracking, squinting her eyes through the heart shaped leaves to spy at the house standing in front of her, her small, measly and tattered suitcases stacked at her feet, tilting at an angle that would give the leaning tower of Pisa a run for its money. This was it, this is what she had been after for what felt like a lifetime, what she had hunted down so bullheadedly. Then why did apprehension sink in her gut like a cannon ball?

The house was nice, if not for the obvious state of abandonment it currently suffered from, something a bit of cleaning, tender care and a sparse spell here and there couldn't fix in a jiffy. It was Georgian in structure with strong, sharp lines, squarish in everything from roof tile to window pane. The white paint from the front door and window shutters were peeling in places, aged and wearing thin, but to Harri, it didn't take from the beauty but added... Character. Yes, character. Well, that was what the seller had promised her anyway.

It was large, four or five bedrooms, but not as large and ostentatious as many a house Harry had seen from the wizarding world. No grand fountains, mazes, exotic animals prowling around, preening. Nothing that really shouted hey! Look at me! I'm a rich bastard with a family history longer than a national insurance number! Not that she would ever go for a house like that personally, she much rather just blend into the backdrop, be a prop rather than an actress at centre stage, spotlight making her sweat profusely. She had done enough of that since she was eleven. But then again, it wasn't a wizarding families house. No, it was her mother's parents.

The home her mother had grown up in, flowered in, grew and became the wonderful witch she had only ever heard stories of.

Harri hadn't inherited it, she hadn't even been told about the house by Aunt Petunia, though the woman hardly said hello to her on a good day, let alone sit down and talk family history in depth with Harri. No, she had hunted for it, scoured for it and with just the right dash of luck and a pretty penny spent from what Sirius had left her, bought the old house that was neither here nor there, lost between modern abandonment and a well-loved family home.

It had been abandoned since her grandparent's death, Lily and Petunia already having households of their own at that point, and had been bought by a landlord that had bought other projects too, too many until this one had been put on the back burner and left to crumble in on itself, interior and belongings all left intact. Everything left as it had been, collecting dust and age, but never losing memory. That was what Harri wanted most, the memories.

Why go through all that effort for a house? Simple. Harry wanted a home. Godric's Hollow was in tatters from playing battlefield in two wars, Hogwarts was still in bricks, pieces and haphazard construction, even then, she couldn't exactly set up tent in its grounds and live there, as much as she had wanted to. Hogwarts had been the only thing close to a home she had ever had, and it pained her to leave it behind, physically pained her, but it housed too many bad memories, too many hauntings, too many taunting phantoms that wouldn't let her sleep, wouldn't let her rest.

And as much as she adored Grimmauld place, how could she not? It was everything her Godfather was, is and will be, her last tie to her beloved Sirius, her last family member, it still didn't feel like home. It was Sirius's, not hers, it would never be hers. She had spent one day too many looking at that front door and just expecting him to walk through it, cheeky, dimpled smile in place, whiskey in hand. She never learned, for when night fell and he was still gone, still dead, the realization set in like fungi she couldn't bleach out and it hurt that much more. The truth was Harri needed to move on and she couldn't do that surrounded by ghosts chaining her to the past.

Yet, she wanted... Needed that tie to family, something that showed her they were real, they did exist at some point, they were happy at one stage and with all the hope of Merlin, she too would be in time. So, her grandparent's house, grandparents she had never met, as they had died before her birth, was the only route she could go. It wasn't the best of circumstances, Harri would agree, but in her sad and relatively short life, and as pitiful as it sounded, it was all she had left.

However, standing here now at the tender age of nineteen, bombarded with it all, that they had been real, they all had and not some imaginary play-through she would picture as a child to sing her to sleep, they, her Mother, ate here, slept here, played here, cried here, Harri didn't feel much better than she normally did. Because they were no longer here, hadn't been since Harri could talk. The dust, the splintering bricks, the cracked window all sang hymn to that fact. Instead of feeling warmth, like she had expected, of something, anything, that now belonged to her that once belonged to her family long gone, just left her with the feeling of absolute aloneness.

Everyone was getting on with their lives, living as they should be. Hermione was heading towards a teaching position at the school she loved so. Ron was actually about to be promoted in his Auror position, Luna was writing her own paper, dammit, even Draco was on the verge of marrying and starting a family of his own. Happy, every single one of them, and they deserved to be. But she did too, and she was done with squirrelling herself away, breaking away from them, hiding because she just didn't know how to do it like they had,move on, because she felt guilty over things she had no say in, lives that had been lost, yet she had never flicked the wand. _Voldemort's sins were not her own_ , she had to stop treating them as if they were.

She was alone. _No family, nowhere else to go, no place to call home. Alone._ Shaking her head violently at the thought, some of the leaves of her plant getting tangled up in her boisterous, copper curls, Harri pushed it all back and away. She was alone now. She had no family now. She had no home now. However, now was not a permanent state, just a transition of time. She wouldn't always be alone, she would make a family, she would make a home.

She was no longer that little girl, bruised and crying, curled in on herself in dirty and torn clothes, locked in a closet, begging for parents that would never come, could never come, the man in the moon her only friend who she would speak too. She had to believe that. She just had to be patient, she had to take it one step at a time, one foot in front of the other and she would find her way back to the right road, back to civilization. The first step, of course, would be to actually enter the home she had searched so hard and long for.

Straightening out her spine, Harri gently placed big Bertha down, the nickname for her plant, her only companion as of late, didn't that speak wonders about her, delved a hand into the pocket of her jeans and scrambled for the key she knew to be lost in their depths. In retaliation for her rough treatment, the little bugger's sharp end nearly sliced into her pinky. With a muttered curse, Harri fished it out, gave a glance around her, deciding to leave her bags and belongings in the front yard awhile she explored.

They wouldn't be stolen, the house itself was in a stretch of countryside, stuck between Cokesworth and some other town, the nearest building being a good half hour minutes walk and she highly doubted anyone would come tumbling down the winding path and across this house, her or her belongings. But, airing on the side of caution, Harri, with a flick of her wrist, cast a disillusion charm over the medium piled bundle.

Stumbling towards the door, her hand slightly tremoring due to excitement or nerves, she couldn't tell, she didn't know whether she wanted to know in full honesty, Harri finally slid the key home and with a fortifying breath and pull back of her hunched shoulders, twisted the handle and pushed the door open, being greeted with an ominous creak and rattle from the old infrastructure. _Here goes nothing..._

* * *

It took Harri awhile to find the power box and a little longer to find the right switch to flip to light up the dusty house. She had done a little exploring, but the sun was setting and if she ever hoped to navigate her way around the tarp-covered furniture and foreign landscape, she would need light. So between breaks of looking through the front room and Kitchen, Harri had started her hunt for the elusive power box, which like in most houses, was located under the stairs. It would have helped if she thought of that half hour before stumbling around the house, muttering curses when she kept coming up empty handed, or her shin took a rather nasty bump from a corner table.

Dusting her hands off on her jeans, Harri straightened up and winced as her head smacked into the door frame of the tiny cubby hole, jumping slightly when something rectangular fell down and nearly clonked her on the head. She had never been tall, a good sore spot many a Slytherin would poke at in her school years, barely coming to four foot eight, it was an extremely rare occurrence when her head hit anything other than a pillow when she collapsed onto bed.

Glancing down, Harri saw what had nearly knocked her out, hand braced on the door frame, Harri leaned back into the room and squinted up, neck twisting uncomfortably, realizing the thing must have been balancing precariously on the top door frame, out of sight. Hidden. Harri reflectively swallowed. By the look of the old, fading yellow clothbound book with little flowers engraved and it's hiding space, it wasn't that hard to figure out what it was. A diary, and merlin know's her track record when it came to finding hidden diary's and how well that normally played out for her.

But she had to shake herself. This wasn't Hogwarts, Riddle was dead, this was no Horcrux, not in her grandparent's house at any rate. Then it hit her, this was her grandparent's house, her mother's house for a time, that meant this small non-threatening book could have been her mothers... Or aunt Petunia. Harri repressed a shudder. You would have to hold her at wand point to get her to read through her aunt's inner workings. The thought of doing so alone nearly made her retch.

Still, almost on auto pilot, Harri squatted down and with a fast swipe of her arm, as if she was afraid something was going to jump out and eat her face, which with her luck wasn't out of the realm of possibilities, flipped the cover open, staring in wonderment at the cursive, elegant black ink that stared back at her.

 _Lily. J. Evans._

Her mother's diary. Harri dived for the book, blowing out the dust that lined it with a puff of cheeks as she retreated out of the cupboard. The closest room was the kitchen, but Harri hardly paid any attention, just enough to mindlessly and blindly reached out, pat the wall a few times and finally hit the light switch. She only looked away from the treasure in her hands to pull the cloth from a chair and sit down, her eyes practically zinging back to the book as quick as they had left it.

How could she not? this was her mother's own words staring back at her, talking to her, showing her what her mother had been like. It was like having a little portal through time, just enough to show her snapshots of her mother's life, but that was more than anything she had ever had before. Now it was here, in her hands, before her eyes and she didn't know whether she was going to be violently sick or pass out.

Closing her eyes, trying to reign in the hailstorm of warring emotions, Harri breathed in and out, mentally counting to ten, before her thin fingers flicked through the book and landed on a random page, her eyes blinking open like a baby faun as she blearily looked down at the book in her hands, having scanned the same line three times before the words started to register.

 _Dear Diary,_

 _That's how you normally start this sort of thing, isn't it? Well, if not, I apologize in advanced. Our mother took us out shopping today, she said we needed to spend more time together, what with my... Extra schooling and Petunia with her new boyfriend, a red-faced, blob of a man called Vernon. If you couldn't tell, I am not his biggest fan..._

 _I digress. It started off well enough, as well as all the other times. Mother was forcing a smile while Petunia snapped petty remarks and I fired back. I know we hurt her with our fighting, but I can't sit back and take it from my own sister, especially when I face it enough at school. There was a little antique shop we stumbled across, an old thing it was, to be honest, I thought it was just another abandoned building in Cokesworth, there are a lot of them._

 _But it wasn't. It housed the oddest things, and that is saying something coming from someone who has seen the wonders of... Well, what I have. There was a sword! A real, sharp long sword! It was a bit oddly shape, I'll give you that, curvier than I suppose should a sword shape take, but it was beautiful all the same._

 _I think, heartily at that, that the oddest thing housed in this menagerie of time passed was the shop owner himself. His beard! If there will be one thing I remember of the man, other than his weird choice of grey clothing, from grey socks, slacks and shirt (even suspenders) To the grey Fedora perched on his head, it would be his magnificent beard. It rivalled that of even my headmaster, though, I believe you would have to see both beards to believe such a feat could indeed be done._

 _Maybe it is a requirement of being wise that one must have a full and long beard, for the shop owner was, in fact, wise. With soft spoken words and eyes that seemed to just... Know all my darkest secrets, it was hard to look at the man and not blush and stumble over my words like an eleven-year-old again! (I am fifteen and according to aunt Hyacinth, a woman now! And women don't blush or stutter!) He was nice, however, and after a predictable storming out by Petunia when mother wouldn't buy her this or that, he gave me a gift, a painting at that!_

 _Of course, I tried to talk him out of it, it was a very large painting and I'm sure accompanied with a lofty price tag with how detailed it was, but he heard none of it. Mother even tried to pay at least some towards it, but he turned his nose up at her, as if she had scorned him and he wasn't in the trade business! Honestly, he was a very odd, very tall man. I remember what he told me as he helped me and mother carry it back, as if he is here right now with me, whispering in my ear._

 _'Look after this painting and it will look after you. Just remember, love is like a painting. In the beginning, it is nothing but a blank canvas, an Idea. Then through time it is built up by error's, hardships and corrections until one day you have a breath-taking painting for all the world to see. One day, when all is right, you'll find what you want most and then you'll know. And who knows, one day your daughter could find the very same in the same brush strokes. Life is a funny little thing..."_

 _Maybe he wasn't wise after all, just crazy. Though, if only I tell you, I can not shake this apprehension that has seized me so comprehensible, especially when he smiled and left without so much of a goodbye. No, not when I could have sworn I heard laughter echoing out from the parcel paper wrapped painting... Still, mother let me hang it in the front room, above the fireplace. It really is a Beautiful painting._

 _Thud._ Harri sighed as she slammed the book shut resolutely. One step at a time. With the way she was feeling, she needed to take it slowly. If she wasn't careful, she would devour the book in a night and then where would she be? Back to being alone. This way, if she took it a bit by bit, she would have her mother there, in some form, and hopefully, this crushing feeling of being alone would wade just a little. No, she didn't want to waste this opportunity with her hastiness.

Hazily, she remembered what she thought was the painting described in her mother's diary. Though, not the painting itself, but a large landscape rectangle that was covered with, yes, more tarp, hanging above the stone fireplace. Shaking her head, Harri dislodged the thought. She had more important things to think and worry over. Like actually repairing the house, getting her own things settled and in place, sorting through the leftover belongings that were currently collecting dust and dragging Big Bertha inside along with her cases.

Glancing out the window, Harri saw the sun about to set and the moon begin its ascendance. Sleep. That was what she needed after a day like this. Some blissful, none disrupted rest. One day at a time. She could do this. Tonight she would rest, tomorrow she would start to get this house in order and then, soon, hopefully, please, everything would be alright. Everything would be normal. Everything would be peaceful.

* * *

 _Dun-dun-dun-da-da... da-da... Dun-dun-dun-da-da... da-da...Dun-dun-dun-da-da... da-da...Dun-dun-dun-da-da... da-da...Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhwp... BANG!_

Harri's eye's snapped open as she swung up into a sitting position, her eyes wide and alert, darting around the shadowed bedroom, her chest heaving for breath as her heart jackhammered in its rib and lung prison. Her hand automatically reached under her pillow to wrap around her wand, the feel of polished wood on heated fingertips easing her panic slightly. What. The. Hell. Was. That!

Slowly, cautiously, Harri eased her bare legs out of the confines of the sheets, her feet padding on the hardwood flooring as she lifted herself out of bed and into the dark night. Dressed only in a long T-shirt and knickers, Harri prowled towards the bedroom door, body rigid and ready for a fight, wand poised in waiting. She could have sworn, but no. It couldn't have been. She was alone in the house, she felt no other magical presence and the house's location was isolated... So why did the sound of merry music and what could have been nothing but a firework going off jolt her from sleep? Had it been a dream slipping and sliding into reality? Had she already been half-way awake and some noise had just fully roused her? Trapping her between the real world and her minds own wanderings?

Back pressed against the wall and lone eye peering out of the crack of the bedroom door, finding nothing but darkness and silence, Harri's wand began to lower, her guard too as she eased, only for something to brush against her ears, like a faint breeze on a summers day, a hint, a taste, barely there but there all the same.

 _Dun-dun-dun-da-da..._

Music. She was hearing music. Acoustic... Violin, fiddle maybe? But so faint, she really couldn't be sure. One thing, however, she could be sure about, it was originating from somewhere within these four walls. Bolstering herself back up, Harri squeezed through the crack and into the desolate house, following the noise that tickled her ears so.

It didn't take her long before she was easing herself down the hallway and stairs, winding past the kitchen and faulting at the entrance of the front room, ears straining as the quiet noise grew just a smidgeon from her vantage point. _Bingo._ On a whispers count of three, Harri twirled into the room, wand high, cheeks flushed, curses and spells on the tip of her tongue, only to freeze once inside.

The windows were in the right position to let the moonlight filter in unabashedly as there were no curtains, giving just enough light into the room to let Harri's eyes adjust, but not enough to cast away all imposing shadows. Yet, despite the black smoke that hid a few corners from prying eyes, there was no debating one thing. There was nothing. No one there, no T.V on, no music box. Nothing. Yet, still, even in that heady moment, that damned music twirled around her.

Then she saw it. It was nothing out of place, not with the state of the house. Above the mantle piece, slightly skew-whiffed, still covered in yellowing cotton, one glossed wooden corner poking free, was that damned painting. Harri didn't know why, didn't question in her sleep-fogged brain, but she couldn't look away, couldn't move her feet as she stood barefoot in the middle of the living room simply staring at it, her wand hand flopping uselessly to her side.

Plod, plod, plod, plod. She was moving, walking as if in a trance to the painting, not quite fully blank minded, but neither thinking with full faculties as she came to a stop just before it, her free hand reaching up to snag a free corner of the cotton, fingers twisting in the material. With a frown marring her features, a down twist to her lips and a yank of her arm, the cotton slid free and fell to the floor in a dramatic sweep, fluttering into a pile at her dainty feet.

The music abruptly stopped. But that didn't matter when Harri looked upon the picture, lost in oil and colours as she took in as much as possible. It was a clearing of some sort, trees encasing the free area. There were hills off in the background, small things with winding paths sweeping like a river between them and... What looked like rounded doors and windows actually in the hills.

But it was the clearing that caught her attention most, how could it not? What looked to be a party was taking place. Men, woman, Children, all a little podgy and short with huge hairy feet, even in the painting, were dancing, laughing, smiling, joking, drinking from large wooden tankards. Little lanterns with candles and multicoloured ribbons were hanging from the tree's, giving light under the starless night, Full moon shining brilliantly from above their heads, tables with crochet doilies holding piles upon piles of food were littered around near the edge of the clearing and there was even a small tent set up just halfway in on the painting. However, what held her eye most was the sky. Sparks of blues, yellows, reds, oranges, purples, pinks, greens, were fizzling around, so life like you could have really thought it was a photograph of a firework lit sky.

The music... The firework... No. Harri scrubbed her eyes roughly with the back of her hand and finally let go of the cloth. Her mother's diary was just playing on her mind, taunting her. That was all. She was over tired, over stressed and moving into a new place, in a new area, alone, was bound to cause some mental anxiety. That was all. After all, what was it Hermione had said to her all those years back?

 _Even in the wizarding world, hearing voices is never a good sign Harri..._

Voices, music, fireworks, they all fell under the same umbrella, didn't they? Harri scoffed to herself and without a backwards glance, turned her back on the painting and began to march herself back to bed.

"Sleep. I just need some sleep."

And so, Harri Potter strolled right back to bed, eased herself under the covers, curled up and did just that. Tomorrow would be a new day, a new start. One foot in front of the other...

* * *

Harri stood in the front room, freshly dressed and showered, her mother's ageing diary clasped tightly to her chest, almost bruisingly so as the young girl blinked rapidly, staring pointedly, wand in her other hand at her side after she had sent every spell she knew that showed cursed, hexed or magically inclined items to the thing in front of her. They had all come up blank, everything, so despite what she was feeling, what she was thinking, what she was seeing, the damned painting that was causing this whole mess was supposedly very, very, very muggle. She dazedly remembered last night, like a broken film, one scene jumping from the other in a fractured mess, but she was sure she remembered the main point of it all.

The music and fireworks that awoke her. Her descent down stairs. Looking at the painting. The cloth piled on the floor at the base of the fireplace proved that much to be true at least and not a hallucination. But there couldn't be another explanation could there? She had to have at least hallucinated a part of what happened, for how could she be facing something completely different this morning? Something that contradicted everything she had remembered from last night. Her mother's book dug further into her chest, branding her, cutting into her finger, making her bleed but Harri didn't care. She didn't think she could at this point.

Could witches or wizards get Dementia? Or any Illness that prayed on one's memory? Short term or long term? Had she eaten or drank something off? She had once heard cheese could cause nightmares... Was this a product of a spell gone awry? Could she have dreamt it all so vividly?

Why was she so worried about her memory or mental capacity you might ask? Why was she so anxious, confused and jarringly frozen in place, staring at a painting most would only give a passing glance to? Because last night, Caught in a net between awake and asleep, under pale moonlight and alone she could have shouted until she was black and blue in the face that the painting had depicted a party in the throws of night, full of little people, music and lanterns and fireworks sprinkled merrily around. Definitely not a calm clearing with a flock of birds passing by overhead, a sun blazing hot in a periwinkle sky, void of all people. Which is what she was seeing right now...

* * *

 **Do you like it?**

 **There is a valid reason why I have changed the spelling of Harry's name from, well, Harry to Harri, do not worry, it is not a spelling typo, but the reason will be explained later on in the story.**

A.N: I know, it's two days late, but better late than never right? Okay, I'll dodge the rotten fruit and veg... So hopefully, if you guys like this, It's going to be quite epic in length as I have a lot I want to do with this fic, and talking about length, it's going to be awhile before we see our favourite Dwarves, but not too long before we see a very special hobbit ;) I'd give an estimation of around chapter three/four for Bilbo to come in and maybe another two/three on top of that before the dwarves come into play. The reason why? I just don't want to rush this fic, I want Harri to have a solid, very solid, background laid out as I have messed a bit with Potter cannon, as I always do, but then again if I wanted to stick to cannon, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction.

If anyone is wondering, this is a Kili/Fem!Harry/Fili fic. Yes, all three. And before anyone asks, Tauriel is not present in this fic and if she does make an appearance, it wont be as a romantic rival for Kili. I don't know about you, but especially when Kili is involved, in fanfiction it mainly turns out in a very simple formula. Kili is all sweet and nice to protagonist, they start falling in love, get captured in Mirkwood and all of a sudden Kili turns into a huge dick and follows Tauriel around like a puppy, Tauriel is nice to every but protagonist who she is nasty and snide with for some inexplicable reason, and then the heroine ends up in tears until Kili finally chooses her over Tauriel...

I'm not saying all Kili fanfiction is like this, no because there are some wonderful fics done by brilliant authors, but there are too many for my tastes and they just never sit well with me. So, if that is the fic you are looking for, please give this one up now and save yourself the time and effort XD

So, I hope I've wet your taste-buds and you're looking forward to chapter two and if you have some time to get those fingers tapping, a review would be amazing. As always, stay beautiful and until next time- AlwaysEatTheRude21


	2. Lessons Learned

**QUICK NOTE:** So, I know I said it would take a while for the Dwarfs to show their faces, but everything I wrote, they kept wheedling themselves into. What can I say? Even if they're only in my imagination, they're still stubborn little bastards and refused to be ignored! So, I ended up changing the progression and tweaked the plot a tiny bit to introduce them sooner. **I just want to underline how much I have messed with both Potterverse canon and Hobbit Canon! And will continue to do so!** If this sort of thing annoys you, please turn back and forget this fic! This is fair warning. Either way, Enjoy!

* * *

 **FRERIN**

Being a Durin had many more pitfalls than it did benefits. Being a descendant of Durin the Deathless, with forefathers as great as the original, left a bitter taste of having to live up to high expectations from a sturdy and boisterous race, and an even more headstrong family name. They often lived short lives, compared to their actual possible life span, passionately, with many battles, both emotional and physical, and the worst of all, many died bloody. In fact, Frerin thought, the only one he could name off the top of his hairy head as not having died by enemy hands, in battle, or in some freak accident was his sixth times great grandfather, Thrain the first. Now, that was a legacy to live up to.

However, as much hardship and heartache his family lineage faced, and while being worldly known, there was one thing not many out of his direct line knew of. A Durin should never, and he sincerely meant never, make a joke. That was their real curse. Not the gold sickness, not their often young deaths. It wasn't some poor act to keep up a front to the outsiders of their race, they did that well enough with their own brutish, stand-off-ish and blunt personalities, there was no need to seem more dour and solemn, that kept them from cracking a quip here and there. It wasn't a safety net for themselves, keeping people away, especially with where their attitudes towards his race veered towards in this day and age, protected them emotionally from the scorn and deprecating looks and remarks.

No, they didn't, or shouldn't joke, because Mahal found high amusement in twisting their words against them. His father, Thrain, had warned him of doing such a thing, letting his tongue run wild in the heat of the moment, when his own humour ran to high for their gods liking. But, as he often did when he was a youngling, he brushed the whole thing off as one of his fathers nuggets of wisdom that he did not need to heed to. Well, unfortunately for him, or fortunately when you took into account it was just a budding beard and not the whole of his nephews hair, Frerin, son of Thrain the second, son of Thror, made such a quip.

It was a peaceful day in Ered Luin, the sound of the lit forge a constant background noise to the symphony of the inhabitants. The sun was out, the children playing in the community nurseries, his sister Dis and her two young ones by his side. All was good, all was well, all was bright... Until little Kili, barely out of toddler-hood with a proud beard on its way in on his cheeks, grumbled about his slightly older brothers, Fili's, already lengthy beard and mustache. The two had been the same their entire life, Fili always just one step a head, of course he was, he was five years older, nothing but a blink to a dwarf, but it ground on his younger brother like nothing else, Kili always running to get ahead of his brother in just one aspect.

All in good nature of course, Frerin didn't think even a One could come between their bond, which in retrospect, would never happen. The boys were too much alike, too close, and really, with their own dwindling female population, a shared One would not be the first triad, or the last. In fact, it was quiet common. Dis, his own sister was nearly in one until one of the Dwarf lads died in a battle. And Frerin, among every other dwarf who had survived the sacking of Erebor, could see the light in the boys eyes when they visited Nori's little daughter. Aule knew how hard it was too pull those three apart, and Frerin was sure he wasn't the only one with the same suspicion, despite all their young ages... But, that was a discussion for a whole different day.

Frerin had just sat down with lunch at his sisters table,a lovely wild boar roast, on one of his rare days off from helping his father and brother run his grandfathers kingdom from a place not their home or land, when for the fifth time in the space of fifteen minutes, Kili muttered under his breath about how it was not fair, not fair at all. By the crossed arms, petulant look and pointed glances at Fili's beard, newly decorated with silver clasps and Jewelled beads, signifying his family and direct lineage of Durin, it wasn't hard to figure out why Kili was acting like he had only just started walking, still young in dwarf standards, but old enough to know better.

Frerin spoke the words he wished he could take back when. Curling in tighter on himself, Kili scoffed and glared adamantly at his untouched plate. Finishing his drink, Frerin laughed loudly, slamming his tankard onto the stone table, making the ale spill from the force, knowing how Kili felt as he had felt exactly the same when Thorin forged his own beads and clasps and Frerin could only look on in poorly concealed envy, wishing for his time to come quicker, where he could display his pride at being a Durin.

"Lad, you keep scoffing and muttering like that, the next time you're in the forge, you'll singe your whole beard off. I've seen many a Dwarf with missing patches from such a thing happening. Why do you think Dwalin is bold on top?"

And so, with one final laugh and hearty shake of his own head, Frerin had sealed the fate of Kili's blossoming beard. That very night, in the wee hours of dusk, Kili shucked out of his mothers rooms and watchful eyes, stumbled into the still lit forge, planning to make his own beads and clasps before he should have and, as you have likely guessed, burnt off his entire beard in his foolish and hasty plan to stoke the fire higher than was possible sane to, in hopes and warped logic of if the fire was bigger, it would be hotter, and if it was hotter, he would be finished before anyone would wake up and notice his departure, his prize in hand. The damage was done, and despite when the years passed and many of the dwarves his age had hearty and full beards, Kili, bless his impatient soul, was only left with stubble.

Frerin grimaced at the memory until his dying day, and Dis, his loving and friendly sister, always managed a fierce death glare shot his way when the notion of hair, in any form, was brought up.

* * *

 **DIS**

Dis had learnt her lesson in jokes in a harsher way than her brother, Frerin, had. Kili and Fili, her babes, still only toddlers in Dwarven culture, were fast asleep in their own room, tuckered out from fighting over who got to hold Nori's new born Dwarfling, her families housing for once silent in the night. Her husband, Domrer, sat beside her in their living room, both soaking in the peaceful atmosphere, having not had a blissful moment such like this since their youngest Kili was born, or since the sacking of Erebor. To say her sons were a handful would be the understatement of the century and the sacking of Erebor had dusted loss, strife, struggle and pain on every dwarf. However, Dis would not change a single moment of it for anything in the world, not if it meant losing her boys or husband. To be blessed with one Dwarfling was a miracle, but two? That was a sign from Mahal himself. Her boys, her little sun and moon, were her pride and joy, her very essence. There was nothing she wasn't or wouldn't be willing to do for them.

The same could be said for her husband, her one and only Domrer. Their love had been hard to acquire, harder to keep, but worth every uphill battle. She would go through all the struggles if it landed here right in this exact moment and place, her sons sleeping soundly in the room next to her, her curled up with her husband, simply enjoying being next to one another. Their heartbeats matching as much as their breathes did, beat for beat, inhale for exhale, fingers laced through each others. This was where she was meant to be, right there, with her family. Of course, like many things, peace could not be kept forever and the pressing matters of tomorrow were playing heavily on her mind.

Tomorrow, Domrer with a small company would be guarding one of their many traveling merchants to their trading spot in a man city. It was nothing to be worried about, Domrer had made the same pass many times before since the sacking, but that was before floods of reports of Orc raids and attacks on the very same pass Domrer had to take came flowing in through Ered Luin's makeshift halls and rickety doors. That night, unlike the many others before Domrer traveled, worry and dread sunk Dis's stomach like a lead ball thrown into a still lake. She couldn't shake off the feeling that something... Something horrible would go wrong. But Dis, in all her personality, had one blaring flaw that even she herself recognized. One she shared with her other brother, Thorin. She was proud. And her pride would not let her voice those concerns, not when she was so adapt at sweeping them under the rug and pretending everything was fine.

When Domrer stated he would be off to bed, needing an early night to be ready and wide eyed for the long travels tomorrow, despite her pride, Dis refused to let his hand go and relinquish her hold on him, forcing him to stumble back and take a seat next to her once more. When he sent a questioning glance her way, all she could say was three little words, dripped in whispered anxiety.

"Be careful tomorrow."

Domrer laughed, pulled her closer so she was nuzzling his chest, playing with an errant braid, he playfully berated her for her worry with a quirk of brow and teasing grin.

"What? Are you going to miss me Dis?"

To this very day, Dis wished she could take her next words back, to cram them down her throat and never give them to the light of day. But she couldn't. She had said what she had said and she had paid the price of it. So had her sun and moon, her boys. All because admitting how deep her feelings really were for the Dwarf next to her, at the time, had seem so much like a weakness and not what it really was, an opportunity to say she loved him over and over again until her throat dried and tongue bled, a chance to say everything she had never said. A chance she no longer had and had waisted when she did have it.

With a smug grin and a joking lilt to her normally deep and easy voice, Dis gave a solid hit to his chest with her fist as she looked up at him, already regretting the words as they spilled out of her mouth, her fathers voice echoing in the back of her mind. _Be careful of what you say Dis, daughter of mine, our words have a nasty habit of swinging back and hitting us. Never say what you don't mean truly, you will live to regret the day. If I teach you one thing, let it be that._

"Of course not, I'm just waiting for you to die on this trip so I can raise our mischievous sons by myself. If you haven't noticed, I've been eyeing that new baker up, what's his name? Waldron?"

One month, two weeks and five days later, the scouting party sent out to look for the missing caravan brought his body back, bloated, blue and still with an Orc sword buried deep within his chest. Thorin had taken her sons in for the week, not wanting the young, impressionable lads to see their father that way, or Dis for that matter. Dis had been waiting at the front gate for the last week and a half, ever since the due date for Domrer's arrival back home had come to pass.

When they had finally let her see him, her Domrer, well, more like she bulldozed her way in and refused to be turned away, dress wrinkled, beard and hair scruffy and frizzy, wide eyed, she collapse across his body that had been placed on top of his stone wrought tomb, as was their custom. With tight hands clutching his tunic, for the first time in her life, hardy, headstrong, stubborn Dis cried. She sobbed until her voice grew horse, and then she sobbed more, all the while repeating one thing over and over again. The one thing she had never told him, the one thing she had had the chance too, but due to her pride, had relinquished over a poor joke that had torn her heart out still beating. The tacky joke that had left her One-less, her sons fatherless... The joke that had ruined her family, her life.

"I miss you Domrer.. I miss you...I miss you..."

But it was long too late for Domrer to hear those words, and the coil of dread in her gut turned to self hatred and deprecation. It was just one joke, one slip of the tongue, and she had paid so high for it.

* * *

 **THORIN**

Thorin learned his lesson through, not his own pain, but witnessing the continued pain of a close friend, pain he inflicted through a thoughtless, tacky joke. The Ri brothers weren't royalty, no drop of blue blood in their veins, and in so, had run through very different circles he and his family had trailed before the fall of the Lonely Mountain.

Before the sack and subsequent relocation, he had only heard of the middle brother, Nori, through overheard conversations, having only visited Dori's modest Tea shop once and having spotted the young Ori in the corner. Thorin didn't care for tea and after a taster, had left rather hastily. At the time, Nori had been a respectable Dwarf, a spymaster to his father, a rather epic feat considering his humble background.

It was only as they settled in the Blue mountains, where each and every dwarf became equal in their struggle for survival, their uphill battle to place roots in a mountain not their own and build life anew, that those circles that had segregated them before began to fade and crumble. It had been hard, but they had all learned to lean on one another, especially with the other races prejudices against them climbing at an alarming rate. It was during this time he met all those he could truly call friend for the first time in his life. Dwalin, Balin, Oin, Gloin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Ori, Nori… Lily.

The woman, who he had originally believed to be a crazed human, had appeared out of the blue with a even more preposterous story of her arrival. Who could blame him for originally not taking her seriously? Witches, wizards, a whole other world and a painting that sucks you back and too between them. Yes, he had originally laughed her off… To her face, which, in hindsight of now knowing what Lily was like, had been one of his most grievous mistakes. Of course, it did not take her long to correct him, not when she used a twig of all things to turn his skin blue and hair bright pink with a flick of her thin, human wrist.

At first, she being a stubborn thing, had refused all contact or help, trying fruitlessly to go back through the painting she had said brought her here, with no use. It was during this time, Thorin would hazard a guess, that Nori had wormed his way into her good side. Soon, the weeks turned to months and then the months turned to years and before anyone knew it, Lily was simply there, one of them. Of course, Thorin did not know their whole tale, he wasn't present for most of it, Nori too refusing to talk about those days, too painful no doubt, but he knew the basics.

They married in spring and soon after, weeks even, Mahal had blessed them with a baby. A rare honor indeed, to have a little one so soon when many could not at all. It was during one of his visits eight months after the birth, as was customary in Dwarven tradition, leaving the family six months of seclusion to ensure the babes health, that everything was ruined with a slip of his tongue. Dis, Fili, Kili had been present, having visited as soon as tradition let them, Dis having grown close to Lily, so were Dori and Ori along with the newly formed family.

It had all been going so well, laughter, good drink, better food and smiles all around. Fili and Kili, both still Mizimith's themselves, had been playfully fighting over the babe most of the night, wanting to play with the little thing, arguing over who got to hold her longer, pulling faces at her from over Lily's arm that cradled her. Fili had been holding her, Lily keeping his arms in the right position and everything had been calm and peaceful… Until the babes hand had shot out from her warm knitted wrappings to snatch at Fili's blossoming mustache, laughing loudly like a squawking eagle as she gave an almighty tug.

"Ow, ow, ow! Don't laugh Kili, she has me by the whiskers and her little grip is strong! Don't just stand there! Help!"

Dis and Kili had joined in with the laughter, the former helping Lily in her attempt to disengage the boisterous babe from ripping his nephews sparse hairs straight off his lip, the latter elbowing Fili in the side when he was finally free.

"She's just sick of your ugly face! Teach you right! I told you she liked me more. Can I hold her now Lily? Please, please, please-"

"Okay Kili, but only for a little while longer, she's going to need some milk and sleep soon."

Kili sat in the chair next to Thorin, nearly bouncing as Lily gently fixed his arms and then placed the babe into them. The pair sat quietly for a minute or two, until Thorin felt a curious gaze burning in the side of his cheek. Glancing down, he was met with the rounded face, copper curled little bundle staring up at him. Oh, her hair was all Lily, that fiery shade, with a hint of Nori's copper, her face too resembled Lily, but those eyes, grey and large and sparkling like a knifes edge or the bright moon, those were all Nori. She reminded him of his nephews back in the day. Back when they had a real home, where they didn't need to fear their neighbors or wonder if they would have enough grain or food come winter. Perhaps, with this small child, they really could begin again, they could create a new home. He found himself speaking without taking his gaze away from the curious, gummy smiling, dribbling… Adorable thing. He would never utter that word out loud, no matter how much he had come to care and like both Lily and Nori.

"Does she have a name?"

Before Lily, Ori, Dori or Nori could answer, all going to, Kili beat them to it with his never-ending energy and enthusiasm. The boy could talk and sometimes it was hard to distinguish the words when he began to ramble. However, oddly, he seemed to know he couldn't talk so loudly, not while holding a newborn.

"Her names Harri. I helped choose it didn't I Lily? It's because she makes a Ha-Ha sound when she laughs and she's always laughing. See, she's laughing again!"

Lily shot his nephew a warm smile, all gentle summer breeze and buttermilk, as she reached over and tickled the babes nose with the tip of her finger, eliciting more laughter. Now that his nephew had pointed it out, she did have quite a distinct laugh. Loud, high-pitched, almost like a bird's caw without the harshness of the C.

"Aye, you and Fili helped."

Kili, for a moment, looked a bit petulant at being reminded his brother had had a helping hand in the name choosing process. Still, his nephews should be honored at the privilege. It wasn't often any couple let even a suggestion of a name be placed upon their child from an outside source. Names, in their world, were coveted, secret, the holders to the owners destiny. Names, to them, meant a lot. They represented the person, who they were, who they was and who they would be. Still, a name that related to laughter, to joy and happiness... It was a good choice and an even better hope for the child's life. Thorin nodded.

"Tis a good name. Strong."

It was then that Nori spoke up, and now, thinking back, he wished he never had. It was this moment that began that dreadful boulder rolling down the hill that left a destroyed family and home within its wake.

"Do you want to hold her?"

Thorin could only nod, taken back by the trust Nori had in him to hold his child, his child that was so young, so rare. When the babe was slid into his arms, a grumbling Kili going back to sit with his mother, Ori quickly cheering the boy back up as the two bantered back and forth, Thorin met the babes eyes once more. He smiled then. He couldn't remember the last time he had smiled… Perhaps back when he had held his own nephews.

"She's a pretty little thing. Too pretty for this world, aren't you? Just like your mother."

And so, the boulder crashed. Soon, Lily took the child back, heading towards the kitchen to fetch some milk. Only, as she stood just in through the wonky doorway, as something bright and blue began to glow from the kitchen depths, as Nori jolted from his seat with just enough time for Lily to turn around and face them, eyes wide and fearful.

"Nori?"

Lily's voice then, so scared, so melancholy, would forever haunt him. Before Nori or any of them could make it to the room, the door slammed shut as wind, unnatural and chilling, picked up. Nori threw himself at the door, Thorin yanked at the handle, hoping to break the metal, Dis pulled the children, Fili and Kili back, afraid for their safety, Dori yelled and pounded, shouting for Lily and Harri, and Ori began to quake, still a child himself. When the horrid light from under the doorway faded and the door magically became unstuck, they all fell through. When they had looked up, it had been empty, no Lily, no baby Harri… Only a glowing painting hanging over the kitchen hearth. A painting Nori dashed for, ripping off the wall and shaking it as if he could slip Lily and Harri free from the depths.

"No, no, no, no! It shouldn't be here! I burnt it! Lily scattered the ashes! What's it doing here? What's it doing here?! Lily? Harri? Harri?!"

Dori looked around the room, dazed before he tried to pull his brother away from the painting.

"Stop lad, it won't do no good. Not now."

Nori broke then, crumbling to the floor as if his strings had been cut, ugly, twisted, heart wrenching sobs wracking his form. And Thorin? All he could do was stare, watch, a frozen witness. What… What had he done? His father had warned him… Frerin had warned him… Dis had warned him so brutally… Dear Mahal, what had he done?

That guilt had never eased. Not in the twenty-two years since that night. Why do you think Thorin let Nori off the hook so many times? All the trouble he brought to their new mountain, all the complaints and hissing and booing, even when they had it tough already? All the little trinkets that went missing from surrounding human villages that smeared them all with the same brush? It was because it was his fault.

His fault Nori had slipped from his high post of spy-master and was sludging in the muck of petty thief. It was bellow Nori and his talent, everyone knew that. And yet, Thorin knew why he stooped low and continued to wade in the mud and grime. The most precious things of his had been taken, his child, his One, ripping a void within him that he was trying to fill. Perhaps he felt if he took enough, the world would right the wrong of taking from him.

However, Thorin's pride never really let him apologize, not outright and with words, and so he showed his repentance through his actions. Letting the petty crimes slide against the wishes and annoyance of fellow dwarves being the chief route it went through. He would never get to see Lily again… And like they had gone, so had his hope to ever settle in a place other than the Lonely mountain. Thorin pulled his gaze determinedly away from the painting that hung on the main wall of the tea shop, adamantly pushing down the memories it rung forward. Dori had kept the damn thing in torturous hope that one day, Lily and the babe would come tumbling back through, back home, where they belonged. Turning to face those gathered, he spoke with resounding finality.

"We need to discuss the consolidation of the trade route to and over the river lune..."

* * *

 **HARRI**

Harri pushed herself further into the corner she had squirrelled herself away in, her mother's diary clasped tightly in her hands, the only light coming from the stubby candle she had perched beside her. Funny enough, when faced with the danger of a painting of all things that seemed to be trying to swallow her whole and followed her wherever she went, she had run to the safest place in the house. Well, what she had felt was safest. The basement. There was something about it, the cool, rough brick, being deep in the earth, that settled something unnamable inside her. Secretly, Harri had hated Gryffindor tower for that very reason, being up so high and out in the open… It felt unnatural.

But, she supposed, unnaturalness followed her like bees did with flowers. It had been two weeks since that fateful night, when she had heard the fireworks and seen the party brought to life in oil and shading. It had only gotten worse since then. She had tested the bloody thing with every detection spell she knew, but it all come up with zilch. Nothing. Nada. Whatever it was, it wasn't made from magic, at least not the type her kind knew and used. That scared her the most. The unknowing.

Then, it began to follow her, if a painting could do such a thing. It would appear in the kitchen while she cooked breakfast. It would be there, taunting her when she opened her eyes and gazed at her bedroom wall. Even the garden was not safe, the fucking thing had appeared dangling from a tree when she had turned her back. She never saw it move, but by Merlin, it did. The painting itself had changed with the tides of the sun and moon, mirroring each day and night.

She had grown fed up then, angry, and she had lashed out. She burnt it until it was nothing but a pile of ashes in the smoke-pit in the backyard, only to walk back into the house and to see it hanging above the fireplace. She had smashed it. Cut it. Dumped it in a lake. Nothing worked. It always came back. And so, she found herself bloody cowering in the basement, invisibility cloak wrapped around her shoulders, searching her mother's diary for any answers. Perhaps if she found out the grey mans name, perhaps Harri could hunt him down and give him his damned painting back. Merlin knew she didn't want it.

Scoffing to herself, the muggle was likely long dead, she flicked over to another page, drawing the candle closer to have a better look. So far all she had found was three closed envelopes squished inside the pages, all magically sealed by her mother so only the recipient could open them. Harri cast her gaze to the other side of herself, eyeing up the pile of parchment rectangles. Maybe they weren't even letters, perhaps they were poetry, especially with the words Dori, Nori and Ori scrawled across the aging parchment.

"Oh mum, what have you done? What's going on?"

No voice answered her and Harri felt the crushing weight of loneliness bare down upon her shoulders. However, the candle flickered, the yellow book jumped out of her hands and as Harri pushed herself away, knowing what happens with books and journals that acted on their own, a wind she could not feel flicked the pages in quick succession, before finally settling on the last third of the book. Harri's eyes scrunched as she folded in on herself, breathless and lost in memory, waiting for Tom's voice to degrade and mock her…

His voice never came and when Harri's heart calmed enough for her to peek a look at the book, she only saw nothing. Blank. No writing, no drawings as her mother sometimes included, and no poetry. Huffing, believing it was just her magic brashly oozing out at her untampered emotions and lack of sleep, Harri plucked the book back up and as soon as skin met paper, colours, words and life seeped into the last pages, spreading out like an ink spill… Only, Harri's eyes could not see it, pupils and irises bleeding white, not when her mind was dragged to somewhere old, forgotten and hidden. Seeing things from long ago.

Her mother was standing in the front room, young, seventeen-ish, fresh out of Hogwarts, the painting was glowing blue and the world flashed as she brought her hand up and touched the brush strokes. When the light settled, she was gone.

 _The page flipped over._

Her mother was standing with a man, dressed in all grey like she had described, only his hat was pointy, he was tall, ever so, and his robes were tinged with dirt around the edges.

"I'm sorry, there's no way back just yet. Not until the time is right and even then, I fear, you will not think it so."

 _Another page flipped._

"She was lost in the woods, I couldn't just leave her there. She can stay with us, can't she Dori? Until she can get back on her feet, of course."

Her mother was standing in a small tea shop, muddied, twigs sticking out of her hair with dirt smudged across her face as if she had rolled through a woodland. Small people with beards… Well, people Harri's size, even young her mother towered above them, where looking between the one standing next to Lily and Lily herself. One was old, hair white and braided into a bun, rounded with stout, calloused fingers that were fiddling with a tea cup. His beard was well kept and brushed, oiled and slicked into two plaits that faded into a trailing one at the very end. He had a kind face, homely and welcoming.

The other one, half hiding behind the legs of the white haired one, was young, a child really, despite the first few fluffs and tendrils of a beard brushing his cheeks. He even had little honey brown whiskers tickling his top lip. He was dressed in thick wool, a bobbled hat pulled down over his head, a long scarf circling his neck and mittens hiding his hands from view… But he was smiling at Lily with childish wonder and excitement, even if he was a little shy.

The last one stood close to her mother, barely a hairbreadth away. He was clad in leather, rough and dark with an axe strapped to his back and mud caking his boots. His hair was shining copper, twisted and coiled into a star shape, a few shades lighter than Lily's own spiced wine red… Harri had copper hair too… And those gunmetal grey eyes… Harri could no longer think on the matter as the white haired one… Dori, smiled widely and ushered Lily to a seat.

"Of course, of course! What kind of dwarf would I be to set a lady back out to fend for herself? Now, tell me dear, what type of tea do you like?"

 _The page flipped._

Her mother was sitting on the steps to the tea house, the moon high in the sky as she stared up and out into the void. Thud, thud, thud, thump. The man, the red haired… Dwarf as Dori called them, sat next to Lily on the edge, following her gaze. After a moment of silence, her mother's voice danced out into the cold air.

"One year, five months. I've been here a whole year and five months… I don't think I'm ever getting back despite what Gandalf has said. What am I to do Nori?"

Nori turned to look at her, the moonlight illuminating his face. He looked sad then, with a little down twist of his lips hidden beneath his own braided beard.

"Is it so bad being here?... Being with me?"

Her mothers smile was anything but sad as she reached across the distance and clasped Nori's hand.

"No. That's the problem, you see… I don't won't to go back… Not without you…"

 _The page flipped._

It was spring, the flowers were blossoming, jaunty, rustic music filled the air of the little tea shop and the place was crowded with dwarves. Her mother, dressed in white and rosy cheeked stood above them all, towering in all her beauty and grace. She looked angelic, heaven sent, holding a delicate allure that Harri could never hope to reach. If her mother was a glass rose, Harri was the stone cactus. Nori stood beside her, gone with the leather and weapons, replaced with a silk tunic with silver trim. A dwarf… A woman with a midnight beard, just like the men, bulldozed her way to the couple, two children, squirming in her arms, fighting for freedom.

"Congratulations! Oh, it was precious! May Mahal bless you both! A wedding was just what we needed to lighten the spirits around here!"

Her mother hugged the woman tightly, making sure not to squish the children.

"Thank you, Dis. May Mahal bless you and your kin too."

Lily pulled away and just as Nori was about to speak, the two children, a blonde and brunette was all Harri could see from her vantage point, broke free, darting into the crowd. Dis huffed.

"Hold that thought. Fili! Kili! You get back here right now or so help me…"

 _The page flipped._

Her mother was laying in bed, hidden under thick furs and blankets, curled up on her side, dawn fast approaching. The door to the little bedroom opened, Nori slipping in through the crack, quietly shutting the door as he stealthily made his way to the bed, sitting down as he began to undo his boot laces. Lily's neck stretched as she looked over her shoulder to him, a sleepy smile gracing her face. Nori smiled back as he abandoned his laces to reach and grasp her mothers hand.

"You're meant to be sleeping. You need all the rest you can get in your condition."

Her mother rolled to face him and there was a hint of something rounded and large before it was swallowed by the blankets again. Now Lily only looked cheeky.

"I would, but she has other plans. She punches and kicks just as strongly as you do. How was the meeting with Thorin? Still as grumpy as ever?"

Was some woman hurting her mother? Was she ill? A lump formed in Harri's throat but she couldn't move, couldn't speak, could only watch as Nori laughed heartily as if her mother being beaten was some sort of joke.

"Aye, he's a right sour bastard, but I can't blame him. He has a lot of weight to bare and this conflict with the human village is helping none. Enough of work, let me feel bunnanunê."

Her mother sat up, shirked the blankets and Harri's heart thudded to a stop. The rounded thing, it was no pillow… It was her stomach. Lily… Lily was pregnant and by the look of her age, eighteen, nineteen… That was Harri inside there. As Nori leant down, whispering to the swollen stomach in a language Harri had never heard before, but soothed something ragged and painful inside her, rubbing the skin affectionately, it all made sense. It was poetry… In a way.

No-Ri. Do-Ri. O-Ri… Har-Ri. Nori. Dori. Ori. Harri. The names, they bonded family together… Like surnames... Family, her family. The eyes, the hair, her size and rather athletic, compact and muscular build, her strength... James Potter was not her father, the red-haired man with her copper tinge and steel eyes were. She couldn't breath. Her head swam and before she could stumble towards the bed...

 _The page flipped._

Her mother looked most happiest here, more joyful and content in any photo Harri had ever seen of her, surrounded by Nori, Dori, Ori, Dis, the two children that had scarpered at the wedding and a dwarf she did not know. The unknown man was holding her, smiling down, the same inky tresses Dis sported cascading down his back in glorious, shining waves and braids. Even in his tatty fur cloak, he looked majestic.

"She's a pretty little thing. Too pretty for this world, aren't you? Just like your mother."

Harri got a look at the babe and it only made her feel more dizzy. That was her alright, copper curls, turned up nose, silver eyes. Her blood churned and went sour. Only, as she looked up, watched the banter, watched the laughter and saw the smiles, indescribable pain pierced her heart. What went wrong? How did Lily end up back in the other word? How was Harri left abandoned… Alone. Just another orphan?

What would it have been like growing up here, with family? With love? Without war and pain and blood and death? Would she no longer have nightmares? Would her scars and battle wounds be finally seal closed? Would she not be so irrevocably alone? Just what went wrong? Her mother answered that horrid question when she took baby Harri back from the man, excusing herself to the kitchen. It all happened so fast from there. The blue light, the yelling and pounding, the slamming of the door and a flash. When the door finally opened it was empty and the very same painting that haunted her sat atop the hearth, having the final laugh once more.

 _The page flipped._

Lily was huddled with James in Godric's hollow, pale, clutching Harri to her chest. James was looking frantic, shaking Lily by the shoulders.

"James, he's coming, we have to run! Please, I can't see my best friend or daughter dead. We can make it, I know we can! If we leave by the back door and run for the woods-"

James cut her off, his voice deep and sorrowful.

"There's no time. He's here and his deatheaters have this house surrounded. We'll survive this, and when all is said and done, we'll get you back there, back to your husband and family and everything is going to be alright Lils, okay? But right now, you have to hide. Go upstairs and no matter what happens or what you hear, don't come down!"

Her mother nodded and ran, slamming the nursery door behind her and locking it with every spell she knew. She placed baby Harri in the cot, tears misting her eyes as she frantically looked around herself… Gaze landing on the little yellow diary. Picking it up, she looked all around her until her gaze met Harri who had been forced into the corner of the room. Could she see her? Could Harri stop the madness before it ever began? As Harri stepped forward to warn Lily, to get her to run, the woman was speaking and all of Harri's ill formed hopes and half shaped dreams shattered.

"I-…. I don't know if it's you whose found my diary, but I pray it is. It was never meant to come to this Harri, never. You were meant to grow up happy and surrounded by family who love you and my only hope is that that dream of mine can still happen. You're not meant for this world Harri, not meant for this life. You can only stay in a world not your own for a short time..."

Lily's breath hitched as she heard a bang ring out from outside, but she turned back, speech growing frantic.

"The painting, it was only trying to fix what it started. You see, you can't stay in a world you're not born too, that you don't belong in, not for long. It accidentally sent me there and righted its own wrong by bringing me back… Only it brought you back too. You weren't born here, your blood doesn't belong here, and I hope it will fix the wrong it has done to you too. Magic is a funny thing, it doesn't work on time scales or wants and wishes. But it will end what it's started and the only way to do that is to send you home."

Her mothers voice broke and the first tears began to fall.

"If your hearing this, seeing this, it means I couldn't make it back with you like I so hoped to. I have letters hidden within this diary for our family, your family, explaining much more than I can right now. You see, the clock has struck night and It's time to go to sleep. You're strong, just like your Udâd, you'll make it, I know you will. I don't know what your life has been like, if your happy and well, I pray you are… But you have family out there, waiting for you. If you're anything like me, like your father, like the strong dwarf you are, that will mean so much to you. Please, don't turn your back on this. I fear Nori will need you as much as you will need him. He will be able to tell you so much, teach you things I can't… But there's no time. I'm sorry it has come to this, I tried my best to get back home, back to Ered Luin but evidently, I never managed it."

Harri was crying now too, silently, bitterly, fingernails digging into the palms of her hand until she felt something hot and thick begin to drip onto the floor from between her fingers and clenched palm.

"Tell Nori he is and always has been my star in the night sky. Tell him I love him forever and always. Tell Dori I'll miss his tea and talks. Tell Ori to keep wrapped up warm, I know how cold he can get… And Harri? Find them, your family. Smile. Laugh. Love without bounds… And go home… Go home, for both of us."

Lily looked away then, pulling out her wand and pressing the tip to her temple, drawing out thin, shiny tendrils of lights… Memories. The memories Harri had just seen. Flicking her diary open, she placed them inside before shutting the book with a resounding bang.

"This is where my story ends… But yours, my darling Harri, is only just beginning."

Lily threw the book out the open window, away and gone from the death and blood about to tarnish everything within this home, and just as the door slammed open to the nursery, as baby Harri began to wail, as a cloaked figure slithered in, the world faded to black and Harri was back in her basement.

Harri was crumpled on the floor, not knowing how long she had stayed there after her sight was her own again. How long had she been crying? How long had it been since the memories had been replaying in her mind? Long enough for the candle to burn itself out. Everything had been a lie. All that she knew, the foundation of her life, it had been shattered beneath her feet and Harri felt like she was free falling into nothingness.

Who even was she? Who was her mother? Nothing made sense. The prophecy, the timing, Dumbledore's stubborn adamant proclamation that it had to be her to fight the war, but how could it be? How could any of it make any sense if she wasn't even meant for this world? If she could not stay in it? She feared she would only know those answers if she ever got the chance to talk to the grey man. He knew. Harri knew he knew. As she went to push herself up, something crinkled underneath her hand. The letters. They… They were her family. Her father, uncles. Merlin, she had uncles. Family, right there…

Could she really go? Abandon all that she knew? Hermione, Ron, the Weasleys, Neville, Luna, dammit, even Draco. Only, they had their own lives, didn't they? They had their own families, their own endings. Was she being selfish for even contemplating going? But this could be her only chance to have the one thing she has always wanted, the one thing always just out of reach.

Family.

The basement began to glow blue. Looking up, at the far end of the basement, she saw the painting, not taunting as she originally thought it was, nor mocking, no. It was welcoming, beckoning, calling her home. She just had not understood, had refused to listen as she often did. Go or stay. Memories, for that was all she had here, or family? Now was the time to choose. In all honesty, it did not take long at all for Harri to choose as she scooped up the letters, made sure her invisibility cloak was strapped on tight, hid her wand and Lily's diary in a flap of her cloak. Selfish. For once in her life, she was going to be selfish. Perhaps one day, she would visit back here, and even if she never did, what truly was she leaving? An empty home? Strained friendships? A life she did not want? So what if there were risks? She was a Gryffindor, they thrived on risk taking. It was practically air to them.

Harri chose family, she always had and she always will.

As Harri made it to the painting, her hand stalled before she could touch it. Casting one last glance over her shoulder to the basement, she gave one last smile. She was off on another adventure, and just like the Gryffindor she was, she couldn't wait. As fingertip landed on brushstroke, the room flashed electric blue, the sound of Harri's bird like laughter ringing bright and true. When the light faded, the room was empty once more, and in the dank darkness of the basement, the painting that had caused so much trouble, finally disintegrated into nothing, the doorway between the two worlds closing for the last time. At the exact same time, worlds and centuries apart, two brothers made a quip to a flustered Ori that they wouldn't have to learn to court properly, against Thorin's orders, and that their one would fall right into their lap…

* * *

 **A.N: So, like, hate?...** I'm sorry about the extreme length between updates, life got in the way as it sometimes does, and to make up for it, I hashed together a few of the chapters I was going to keep separate in hopes to make up for the delay.

 _Quick question: I'm heavily (And I mean heavily) leaning towards having Thilbo in this. What can I say? I adore those two together and I really can't help myself! What do you guys think? Yes to Thilbo or am I going to get boo'd?_

Translations:

Mizimith- Jewel that is young

Bunnanunê- My tiny treasure

Udád- Father (greatest of)

 **THANK YOU** to all those who reviewed, you're the reason I decided to come back to this and work on it. Thank you to all those who followed and favourited, and I hope you are all enjoying the story so far.

As always, **Please drop a review!** They really do keep me writing and thinking about this fic, aswell as helping me work on where I go wrong or expanding on what I'm doing right.

Until next time, stay Beautiful! ~AlwaysEatTheRude21


	3. Get A Healer

**FILI**

Kili and his older brother, Fili, were 'accidentally' keeping hidden. In other words, they were currently avoiding their mother and the resulting tongue lashing they were in for once she finally clapped eyes on them. Now, with their mother, who was a proficient tracker, especially when it came to them, having decades of experience, they would have normally been found within the hour, two tops. However, that was only if they had not figured out their mother's blind spot, and oddly enough, that blind spot was Dori's rustic tea shop.

For some reason that was beyond Kili and Fili's understanding, Dis refused outright to ever step foot within the building, even going as far as having Dori deliver her tea for her, with extra coin for the service of course. Dori seemed to understand the reason why, often leaving with a pouch full of tea leaves and a sad little smile, Kili and Fili only knew the results. They had a perfect hidey-hole in which to lay low in while the heat simmered from their latest misadventure. Who were they to turn their noses and snub such a prize?

Of course, they were technically banned from the very same tea shop, something about Dis not wanting them near a painting for some inexplicable reason, but did that stop them? You bet your best armour it didn't, not when the prize, a place unreachable, was at their fingertips. And so, after going on a hunt their mother specifically told them not to go on, the brothers had dashed for the tea shop upon entering Ered Luin again, spotting their irate mother storming the streets, fire in her eyes and a twitching hand that was just waiting to scuff them up the back of the heads and drag them home by the shells of their large ears.

Dori was out that day, him and Nori, for once the dwarf being home, having been called to answer to Thorin for some sort of scandal Nori had cooked up in the nearest man village. No doubt the hearing would take most of the day and night away, Nori blatantly prodding Thorin and Dori trying to make excuses for Nori. So that left little Ori to hold down the fort, and simultaneously be the target to the brother's jovial natures and well-meaning jibes.

Now Ori was a shy little thing, always hiding behind his scrolls, books and layers of wool, but when pushed just enough, or the reason hit a bit too close to home, he was as stubborn, as headstrong and bluntly foul-mouthed as any other dwarf out there. He also got incredibly red in the face, a sight that the brothers were trying to extract from him then. With Ori's shy nature, there were a milieu of topics to use to embarrass him, but for some curious reason, the brothers had landed on the topic of Ones and had ran with it, never really questioning if they should joke about such a serious topic… Or if they should have really joked about anything with their family's luck when it came to humour.

"Well, my One is going to be a redhead."

Kili scowled as he crossed his arms, rounding on Fili who was balancing precariously on his chairs back legs, arms folded behind his head as he used his foot to ground himself on the table. Well, it had started out as a conversation to rib Ori, but it had quickly devolved into an argument between the brothers.

"I really don't think we should be talking about Ones, let alone arguing over whose will be better than whos-"

Ori's stuttering attempt at cooling the brothers off was interrupted by Fili's chair slamming back onto the ground with a mighty thud, the blonde mimicking his brother, crossing his arms and eyeing the brunette up and down.

"Really? Well mine's going to be a warrior! No point in having a One, even a redhead, who can't even lift a dagger."

Kili's face turned sour as he pushed to a stand, bracing his hands on the table ledge, leaning over so his face was prodding into Fili's personal space. Fili could hear Ori muttering, trying to stop the escalating voices, but as it normally turned out, rising Kili's ire was more fun than it was to roll over, and as the oldest brother, he had the last word. That was sibling law… Or it should be. Still, watching Kili grow flustered and flounder for those brief moments when he spoke next almost made Fili's mask break and cause him to laugh.

"Yeah… Well… My One's going to have conquered death! Just like Durin the deathless!"

Fili knew exactly what to say next to push Kili over the edge, he always did.

"Well mine's going to have conquered death twice!"

Head shot. Kili huffed and puffed, pointing an accusing finger right under Fili's nose.

"You can't do that! You can't take what I say and simply add a number to it!"

Fili was about to tell Kili he could do what he liked when there was a series of loud bangs, metal against metal, forcing the two brothers to swivel to the source of the noise. Ori stood proudly on the serving counter, two bronze pans clasped tightly in each hand, obviously the culprit.

"Stop! Just stop! One's are precious! Rare! They're not something you bet over! You- you- you don't joke about them! If you keep up like this, then you're never going to find them!"

Fili caught Kili's side eyed gaze, a hint of a smirk pulling at the corners of both their lips as they re-united once more under the cause of riling Ori up and not each other. Kili braced his hands on his hips, broadly smiling as Fili kicked back onto the table.

"Find them? We won't have to do that, will we Fili?"

Fili, catching onto the line Kili was throwing out there, gave a non-committal shrug and a brazen smile. Every dwarf, no matter their mountain or their craft, all held three things dear and close to their hearts. Their Ones. Their children. And finally, their traditions. Children, even for Fili and Kili, were out of bounds in the taunting or joking arena, and so, that left tradition and even Ones it seemed.

"Aye Kili, we won't even have to court them."

Bang. Another head shot. Blood rushed to Ori's face, painting his skin a sickly sun burnt hue. He gaped and jabbered and heaved in heavy lungfuls of breath through his quivering nostrils. Ori didn't know they were only joking, prodding the bear as it were. Mahal forbid they actually treated their Ones the way they had spoken that day, not only would they personally shave their own beards for such despicable behaviour if they did follow through with the joke, bringing open shame to themselves and their family as tradition would dictate they do, their mother and uncle would have their heads on silver platters for such behaviour. Yet again, Ori did not know that, and the red face and spluttering was all too much fun to set the record straight.

"That's it! I'm getting your mother!"

Ori jumped off the table, storming for the front door. Knowing the jig was up, Fili being the one to always know when to quit when they were ahead, he shouted towards Ori's retreating back that they were only joking. However, the same could not be said for Kili, he always, unlike his brother, had to take that one step over the line.

"Our One will fall right into our lap! Right. Into. Our. Lap! And she'll only ever have eyes for us!"

Kili's sentence was punctuated by the slam of the front door, so harshly shut, Fili was surprised it had not come clean off its hinges. Wincing, Fili was too caught up with the oncoming storm that he overlooked Kili's subconscious slip of the singular use of lap, us and One.

"Ouch! Why did you do that?"

Kili rubbed the back of his head, sending Fili a half-hearted glare from the clap he received.

"Do you know what mother will think once Ori tells her what we've said? She's going to have our braids! Never mind that we're in the tea shop she's told us to stay away from!"

Kili's feet shuffled as a hint of pink embarrassment shone on the apple of his cheeks. His Adam's apple bobbed once, twice.

"It was only a joke, mother will know we don't really think that way…"

Of course Dis would know. But that wouldn't stop the tongue lashing they were about to receive. The fact of the matter was they couldn't keep doing this, especially Fili. He was the heir, Thorin's successor, it was time he started to behave like it. It was why he had dragged his brother out for that forbidden hunt that morn, one last hurrah before he began to take his duties seriously. Fili would admit, he would miss these days, and selfishly, he had wanted one last time to soak in the childish wonder and stress-free atmosphere before he tried to shoulder some of his uncle's burdens.

It was time, Thorin, who Fili saw grow more and more grim each day, strands of grey dusting his ebony hair way before his time, could not hold the weight of their people's troubles and worries by himself for much longer, and it was Fili's job to take some of those worry lines away from his uncle's face. Problem was, Thorin saw him as being too young, too inexperienced, too… Fili, to begin to take up the mantle and wearily, Fili realized today and it's happenings would only cement that in Thorin's mind. Still, he had promised himself and his brother one last day and tomorrow would be another story. Tomorrow and the days after, well, then he could set his uncle right.

"Yes Kili, but you know what mother is like when it comes to joking! Uncle Thorin too! You know what they say-"

"Never say something you don't mean, especially in humour. I know Fili… I know."

Fili was just about to open his mouth to tell Kili it would be best to head their mother straight on instead of hiding away like dwarflings, the berating would be less severe if they came to her instead of forcing her to come to them, when something behind them began to glow blue. Slowly, the brothers turned to face the wall just at their back. The painting that had been there since either could remember was sitting innocently on the wall, staring straight back at them… Glowing. Kili cocked his head.

"Well, you don't see that every day-"

Then the light exploded, something hitting both Kili and Fili solidly in the chest, sending them sailing across the room and into a couple of tables, knocking everything over as they sprawled across the floor. Once the skidding and the world spinning stopped, Fili raised himself up by his elbows, groaning as he looked over to Kili, who thankfully was right beside him and still conscious as he too struggled to sit up, rubbing at his eyes from the blinding light.

"Are you injured?"

Kili shook his head in the negative, going to sit up when he stalled, eyes going wide and trailing to his legs.

"There's something on my lap!"

Looking down to Kili's lap, Fili saw nothing. Huffing, not in the mood for more games after having the wind knocked right out of him, Fili too went to sit up and to tell his brother to stop it when something shifted in his own lap, heavy, solid… Invisible. Wearily, Fili's hand trailed to his lap, fingers extended, prodding, when they met something he couldn't see. There really was something there!

"Mahal… It's a severed leg!"

It took a moment for Fili to understand what Kili was rambling about when he took a gander and looked to his left side, spotting the leg his brother was frantically pointing at. It was only a foot and calf, clad in a weird white shoe with laces across the front, the leg in some sort of medium blue tough material. Only, the leg stopped, the remainder disappearing at an odd angle.

"It's not severed! If it was, there would be blood?"

Wouldn't there? Fili didn't rightly know. Then again, a painting had never shot light at him before, he had never had something invisible press down upon his lap and he had just taken quite a hit to his head, so perhaps he could be excused for his dazed ignorance. Yet, curiosity won out, his hand leaving his lap to prod at the leg, going to touch where it ended when something shuffled and ruffled under his fingertip, giving way to more leg. His hand snapped back to his chest, casting a wide-eyed look to his equally dazed brother. Kili, however, was not as weary as Fili and reached over to prod at the leg, grappling… Something between his broad, thick fingers, giving an almighty tug.

Whatever it was came free, and as Kili held it up, flipping a flap of material this way and that way, the brothers found a cloak. Only, when it was turned a certain way, it went invisible… Invisible! Fili looked down at his lap, seeing a small figure sprawled across them, face down. The cloak, it had been hiding them! Fili pulled his legs free, urging his brother to do the same and as they came to a crouch, Kili still eyeing up the strange cloak, he soon dropped the cloak when Fili managed to roll the figure onto their back, finally catching a glimpse of what had sent them flying across the room.

It wasn't a what… It was a she! She was clearly dwarven, with broad shoulders, large ears that peaked out of rambunctious fire red curls and her compact short stature. Yet, her fingers and wrists were thin, delicate looking, no hair, not even a scruff, trailed her cheeks or lip and her nose was weirdly thin and sloping, a splash of freckles sweeping over the ridge of it and snaking down underneath her closed eyes. Her hair was left without a single braid, the mass of it sweeping out around her like a halo, thick and long and vibrantly alive as it swirled and curled with a mind of its own.

Her brows were thick too, sharp and angled high on her forehead, a scar splitting one eyebrow in two, long and slicing as it touched the tip of her hairline, jaggedly making its way down and across, carving the eyebrow in two and slicing down her closed eye, touching base on the very tip of her cheekbone. It was a mean looking scar, silvery and thick, deep enough to look like she had nearly lost that eye. The shape too was strange, resembling what a human would call a lightening bolt, but to Fili, it looked like a Erebor Khuzdul rune for the letter S, as well as being the rune for symbolizing deep love, sacrifice and boundless protection. It was normally the chosen rune mothers would carve repeatedly on the cradle of a new born child, or the rune lovers would give before one left for an outmatched battle or war. However, he had never seen it carved upon someone's face before…

"Is she… Is she alive? Perhaps you should check?"

Fili blinked rapidly at his brother's question, giving him a sharp look before his gaze was pulled back to the darrowdam. She was young, that was a given, but how young? Fili couldn't tell, especially without a beard to base his guess on. Fili frowned, gaze drifting to her parted lips, full and slack and red… And suddenly, he remembered a gummy smile, chubby hands tugging on his whiskers, sparkling grey eyes and childish laughter that sounded like morning birds chirping their hellos. The red hair… Now he saw it. Lily, the few fuzzy good memories Fili had of the kind, warm woman, looked almost identical to the one splayed at his feet. Of course, Lily had been taller, less scarred and a little more delicate looking, meaning this one was…

"Get mother!"

Nori's daughter would be around twenty-one, twenty-two this year… As young as this Darrowdam looked. Fili went to pick her up, one arm bracing her legs and one sliding between the crux of neck and head, wincing when he felt something hot and sticky slide along his hand and forearm. Looking at his fingers, he saw blood and his eyes locked onto the table they had went crashing into, the corner smeared with blood too. Troll's hairy balls. She'd hit her head hard. Dwarven heads were hardy, thick and nearly unbreakable… When they reached a certain age, normally age forty. During childhood and teenagerhood, they were softer, thinner, making it easier for them to grow, a certain small spot at the very back of the head being the softest and taking the longest to harden. unfortunately, it was the spot that Harri had whacked against the table.

"And a healer! She's bleeding!"

Kili, however, was a bit behind him, still locked onto the realisation Fili had come to a while back.

"That's Harri! Mahal Fili, it's Harri!"

He didn't mean to snap, but with the blow to a soft spot and the blood… It didn't bode well, and they were up against time here. Wondering and questioning could come later.

"Mother and a healer! Now Kili!"

Fili went to gently pick her up, seeing from the corner of his eye as Kili resolutely nodded and dashed out the front door, Fili bringing up the rear at a slower pace. Their mother was going to have their braids indeed.

* * *

 **DORI**

"I cannot, in good conscience, keep letting this slip by Nori, son of Ri…"

Dori winced at the formal naming of his brother, his brother who had just been caught pilfering the mayor's house in the nearest man village. Nori was not making the matter easy, either. Standing there with stubborn pride and sardonic hilarity written all over his face and body. In the short meeting Thorin had held with them and the head of the guards, Dwalin, Nori had been nothing but antagonistic, condescending and down right snarky, leaving very little room for Dori to sneak in and try and ease the tensions building, or to at least try and explain away his brother's behaviour as he found himself often doing.

But no, that would have been all too easy, and lately, when it came to matters of the family, nothing had been easy. Nori, always off and about, lurking in shady corners, doing things no respectable dwarf would lower themselves to do, leaving messes for Dori to clean up back home. Ori was still resolutely quiet. Always with his nose in a book, shy and withdrawn… Dori… He didn't know what to do any more.

Their mother and father had been long gone and sent back to the stone, where they belonged, and that left Dori as the head of Ri. He had tried his best, Mahal he had tried, but ever since Lily's and little Harri's dea… No, he would not breathe life to that rancid thought. In the last two decades… Yes, that was better wording, things had become even more tough then they already where. Of course, after the sacking, it had not been sunshine. They had never been rich, but back in the Lonely mountain they had been comfortable. And while they could not say the same for Ered Luin, they still had a roof over their heads, good food and each other… Only, they were all fracturing apart and Dori felt the last pieces of his broken family slipping through his straining fingers.

Nori was never home any longer, leaving Dori to wonder if he would ever see his brother again or if one of his shady dealings had gone south and he was dead in a ditch somewhere, alone, forgotten, banished from the stone and ancestors that awaited them all. Whereas Ori hardly left the tea shop, and while Dori was thankful for the extra pair of hands, the lad was young but old enough, he should be out and about, living freely without stress like others his age.

Perhaps this was his fault, if he had gone to Nori sooner after… After the loss, talked to him, put aside his own mourning and grief so he could focus better on the insurmountable pain Nori had obviously gone through, perhaps they wouldn't be standing here right now. But they were, and Dori could only stand closer to his little brother, something he had not done after their little family had first been shattered. Opening his mouth to try and talk their way out of this latest fiasco, the doors to the grand hall bounced open, a frazzled and wide-eyed Dis storming her way towards them. Thorin rose from his chair, greetings bubbling on the edges of his lips when Dis by-passed him and stopped in front of Dori and Nori.

"Nori, Dori, come. You're needed in the healing wards."

Dori frowned, seeing from the corner of his eye as Nori copied the motion. Why would they be needed in the healing wards? Unless… Nori beat him to it, expression growing tight when he rounded on Dis.

"Ori? What happened? Is he injured?"

"Excuse me sister, I'm holding court and-"

Dis shot a withering look back at Thorin from over her shoulder, a look that would cow any dwarf, as it did Thorin then, forcing the king to quieten and slide back into his seat with a reprimanded glint in his eye. No doubt, Thorin had not meant to seem callous, he was just asking what was happening in his own convoluted, roundabout way, without actually asking the words outright. Dis, however, seemed to be in no mood for any formal questioning. Dread sank Dori's gut… Ori, no… However, confusion took dreads place when Dis went to face them once more.

"Ori is safe and sound, fear not. Yes, he's at the healing wards, but It's only… Well, you will just have to come, you'll only believe me when you see… Mahal, I still can't and I saw her with my own two eyes."

Saw her? Nori, Dori and Ori had not many cousins, unlike many dwarves, and not any of the female persuasion as Dori could recollect, and he could name most of his lineage off the top of his head. However, Nori had jumped and latched onto that word, breathing a single name before he dashed from the hall.

"Lily…"

Dis tried to stop him but he was a nifty thing when he wanted to be, and it left Dori and Dis racing after the ginger flash. As the two made their way to the healing ward, following the dust trail Nori had left behind, Dori's mind was a mess, thoughts never fixating on one point, leaving him dizzy and mentally unseated. Could it be, after all this time? Had Lily really came back? What about the babe? Was she here too? When they made it to the ward, bypassing injured dwarves ranging from little scolds to missing limbs from crafts gone awry, Dori spotted Nori at one sectioned off bed at the very far end of the long and narrow hall. No other occupants were situated around the bed, meaning the healers, or at least Dis, had tried to give them as much privacy as possible.

On his way to his brother, who was stock still and looking like he had returned to stone, frozen at the edge of the drawn curtain with only a single side visible, eyes locked on whoever was taking up that bed, Dori passed Dis's young ones, Kili and Fili, who were milling around, anxious and quiet. He had no time to question their presence when he slid in next to Nori, finally getting a look at the bed, and subsequently its occupant.

Ori was sitting in the only free chair next to the bed, standing once he saw his brothers, for once scroll and bookless as he wrung his hands nervously in front of him. Yet, the smile, toothy, large and ever so bright that split his face in two could put the Arkenstone to shame.

"L-l-look! It's Harri! She came back!"

Dori could hear the jagged intake of breath his brother took, but Dori was faring no better, staring at the bed, lost for words and thoughts, his own heart thundering in his ears. She looked so much like Lily that it felt bittersweet to gaze at her, and yet, he saw his brother written all across her too. Lily's jaw had been sloping, thin boned and fragile, the darrowdam on the bed's was hardy, sharp, looking like it could take a good punch or two, just like Nori's, just like Dori's own if they were beardless. Her cheekbones were more pronounced than Lily's had been, she had the same natural up twist to the corners of her lips like Nori, giving her an instinctual look of cheekiness, and while she still had Lily's lithe form, most of the softness was gone, replaced by muscle hidden under silk. The very same thin but swift and compact structure Nori sported. An oddity when it came to their race.

Right then, right there, she looked ever so small, tiny, laid upon the healing cot, eyes closed and cheeks flushed, slumbering away with a bandage wrapped around her forehead. Dori's hand violently shook as he placed it upon his brothers back, pushing him forward and towards the bed with as much strength as he could muster, which in fact, wasn't a lot.

"Go."

Nori stumbled forward, lurching towards the bed, Dori shutting the curtain behind him before he turned to face Dis and her sons.

"When… How… What happened?"

Fili was the one to answer him.

"We were at your tea shop and she came out of the painting with a flash of light…"

The painting! If it was still in the tea shop, it could zap her back like it had with Lily all those years ago. They could lose her all over again and Dori was sure, this time, Nori wouldn't survive the loss. It had been a miracle he hadn't succumbed to the loss and darkness the first time. Mahal, Dori wasn't sure he could either. Before he could move, run back to the tea shop and try and destroy the painting that had given and yet taken so much from them, Dis's warm, amicable hand landed on his shoulder, stalling him, a sad smile shadowing her face.

"It's gone Dori. I checked. The painting, it's cracked in two, dull and grey, broken. It's over…"

Dori had trouble swallowing. It had originally disappeared before but had returned, but with the knowledge that it was laying in pieces, then it was truly over… And yet…

"Lily? Was… Did… Is she?"

It was jumbled, it was messy and it was all Dori could bring himself to utter. At Dis's sorrowful sigh, Dori's eyes clamped shut but her words still reached him.

"No… No she didn't come through and I don't think she will."

The rest was left unsaid, but still clear and hanging heavy between them. If Harri was here, alone, it meant one thing. Lily would have never left her daughter. If there was a way back, she wouldn't have sent Harri by herself. Lily was dead and even after all these years, the realisation burnt a hole in his chest. But Harri was here, right behind him… Injured.

"Why is Harri here? Is it… Is she?"

Thankfully, this time Dis's smile was true and honest, radiating warmth and joy.

"She came through the painting and took a rather nasty bump to the soft spot. Wait! It's not has bad as it seems. The healers assure me it looks worse than it really is. Apparently, for her age, her skull is already quite strong, and she only hit it hard enough to knock consciousness out of her along with needing a stitch or two. The healer says she'll wake up when she's ready and the worst thing she'll suffer from is a grating headache for a day."

Dori nodded as a broken chuckle of relief bubbled free from his chest. He didn't know what he would do if Harri had come back only too… No. That wasn't the case and he would not entertain such ideas. His hand, however, still shook as he rubbed it down his face harshly. He felt Dis push him towards the sectioned off bed.

"Go, be with your family. Mahal has blessed you, it is best not to waist such a precious gift."

* * *

 **NORI**

Nori stared… And stared… And stared, idly listening to the conversation Dori was having beyond the curtain. It was the only thing he could bring himself to do. How many times had he dreamed of this moment? Too many to count, and yet, he was still just standing there. He felt suffocated, trapped, balancing on an edge that was quickly crumbling beneath his feet, leaving him free falling. He was sure if he took one more step forward, if he reached for her, then she would fade and once more, he would awaken in a run-down inn or his room back at the tea shop, alone, silenced, with salt misting his eyes as he strangled back the cries.

The loss of a child was a pain no one could describe, a pain you didn't wish upon your worst enemies, a pain that never healed or faded. Still, if he let himself believe this was reality, if he let that festering wound he had been carrying for years to begin to close and seal, and she faded away like every other time, in sight but always out of reach, he knew the wound would rip right back open, larger, gaping, swallowing him whole. Although, faced with even the tiniest of chances that she was here, his babe, his child, he found himself biting for the chance, even with the risk weighing over his head.

One step, two step, three step, four. He reached the side of her bed, by her hip, and slowly sat down, the grinding of the metal cot squeaking under his added weight. Those freckles were new, so was the scar slicing through one eye at an angle, the bandage around her forehead hiding the rest. In all his dreams, even knowing time had passed and if she had been alive, she would have been growing, he had always pictured her as she had left. Toothless, tiny, wrapped in blankets and safely cradled in his arms. Never once had he ever thought of what she would look like grown.

His hand quaked as it rose, freezing just before his fingertips could brush her cheek. What if he woke up? What if this really was another deprecated torture his mind was putting him through?... What if it wasn't? She was still so tiny, so young, he had missed much. First word. First steps. And yet, he had hardly missed anything. Her age, she was still a child in dwarven years and he had so much to see and say and teach and…

His fingers brushed soft, warm skin, skimming thick hair as his palm came to cradle her jaw. She didn't fade away. A raw, unfiltered, craggy weep shredded itself out of his throat as his other hand came to cradle the other side of her jaw, his eyes clamping shut tightly as he bent down and rested his forehead against her prone one. Long held back tears cascaded from his eyes, dropping from eyelashes to land on her cheekbones, giving the illusion that she too was crying.

When he felt Ori's hand on his back, fingers splayed and twitching, Nori pulled back, relinquishing one hand from Harri to bring Ori down and into a hug, sobs giving way to laughter, sending his thanks up to Aule for finally being heard.

"She's alive! She's here! Thank you… Thank you…"

Ori had never hugged him as hard as he did then. And that's how Dori found them when he slithered in. Nori with one hand cradling Harri's face, his other cradling Ori's neck as he held the boy to him in a hug. Nori had just pulled away from Ori to refocus on Harri when Dori spoke up behind him.

"Lily…"

Nori's hand drifted down to Harri's slack one, threading his fingers through hers, squeezing slightly, afraid if he loosened his grip, she would float away again. He knew what Dori was getting at, how could he not? Lily wasn't here, Harri was and Nori knew deep down, nothing but one thing could ever tear Lily away from their child. However, Nori couldn't bring himself to acknowledge it, to fully form the thought, let alone tarnish this moment with loss and pain when he was finally beginning to feel whole again. He just wanted to pretend, just for a little while longer.

"I know… I know. But Harri is here, alive, and that means a little part of Lily is too. That's all that matters. It's what Lily would want to matter."

His hand squeezed Harri's tighter, his thumb curling around to stroke across her lax knuckles when something rigid, misshapen and bumpy glided across his calloused pad. Frowning, he turned her hand to the side, eyeing the skin he had brushed. Blazoned across her hand was a scar, no, not just a scar. Lettering.

 _I must not tell lies._

His throat closed as his gaze flickered to her sleeping face, eyeing the partially hid scar. It too was deep, pale shimmer, inflicted years ago. Now that he was looking, he could see the same glimmer of tightly knitted skin on her bare forearm too, dots that lined a large mouth. Two larger than the rest… Fangs. A bite. Snake if he had a hazard a guess, and a large one at that. How? Lily would have never let… She was only twenty-one… He was spiralling, malforming just like those scars glaring years of pain at him. All questions and no answers.

There was a grumble, a huff of grim annoyance mixed with discomfort and all thought of scars, Lily and possible pasts fled his mind in a wind rush as Harri's eyes blinked open, wincing. She had his eyes. Dori's eyes. Ori's too. All silver clouds outlined in smoke. Only, she blinked, and blinked and blinked. He could hear her breath halter, splutter and then pick up as she became erratic, jerking her hand from his, scrambling up the bed and away in fear and confusion.

He didn't know what to say, had not expected this reaction, not so violent and turbulent. He reached for her as her hands came up to her eyes, rubbing and almost clawing at the skin as if she was trying to rip a blindfold off. When her fingers met nothing, she let out a hefty breath that sounded like it was half hysteric and half grief. He reached for her, trying to gently take her hands away from her face. Yet, when he touched her, she flinched, jolting away from him with a bout of surprise. She fell of the bed in a heap, rolling through the closed curtain, jostling away on shaky limbs, eyes wide and pale and frantic. There was a bang of metal on stone and Nori jumped off the bed, movement and thought finally flooding back into his blood.

He ignored Dori's cry of shock, Ori's panicky gaze as he yanked the curtain back open, freezing when he saw Harry on the floor, huddling and pushing herself into the stonework, the next door cot knocked over.

"Harri… Harri, it's me… You know me, don't you bunnanunê?"

She never met his gaze, but her head turned partially towards him, nostrils flared, mouth nothing but a grim line, blinking rapidly as her eyes began to water. Dori and Ori came to his side, but he held his hands out silently to stop their approach, shooting a look over his shoulder. Perhaps she was dazed, confused. The painting might of took her when she had not expected it. She stopped pushing herself into the wall then, hand reaching out, towards him he would guess, but her aim was slightly off. Her voice tremored, husky but weak and oh, so fearful.

"Nori?... Adad?…"

He came to her then, falling to his knees as he took a hold of her arm. Father. She had called him father… But the quick sweetness of such an omission was easily overridden. She sounded terrified, barely hanging on. Had the bump to her soft spot been worse than previously thought? She grappled for his arm, still refusing to meet his gaze, in fact, her face was looking in the completely wrong direction. Her fingers were tight, as if she was trying to anchor herself to him and thankfully, Mahal be praised, she didn't fight it this time when he pulled her to him, nestling her head into his chest. Her shoulders quaked as he ran a hand down her hair, minding the bandage, and he realized she was crying.

"It's me Harri. Shhh. It's okay. I'm here. I'm here. Aye, look at me, I'm here."

He cradled her head then and pulled her away just enough so she could look at him, and yet, still, she did not. Then, when she spoke, the world around him shattered into tiny shards of broken metal, jabbing into his skin and mind, tearing.

"I- I can't… Everything's black… I can't see… I can't see anything… I'm blind…"

The bump… This was no headache… It was a lot worse than they had thought. He tugged her to him once more, wrapping his arms around her, anchoring himself as much as she was to him. He nuzzled his face into her wild hair, cheek against head as he tried to keep his breathing even. Dear Mahal… No. It would be okay. She was here. She was okay. _They_ were okay. Safe. Alive. Together.

"Shhhh. All is fine. I'm here."

He rocked them back and fourth, only looking over his shoulder to Dori once her shaking stopped and her own breath came in even tides.

"Get a healer. Now."

Dori nodded and dragged a quaking Ori with him and once the two had moved from view, he clocked who was behind them. Fili, Kili, Dis, but this, he knew, had nothing to do with Dis. His anger flared to life. Those damned Durin's and their words! When would they ever learn? Had his family not paid enough for their folly's? No more. He would not lose his child again because a Durin could not watch his own tongue. His teeth clenched so hard he was sure he had broken a tooth as he barbed his words.

"What. Did. You. Say."

The boys were pale, still. He could see Dis shaking her head in disbelief, muttering underneath her breath, asking the boys that they hadn't, not after all she had warned them of. Kili was the first to come to.

"It was a joke. It was only supposed to be a joke…"

 _Our One will fall right into our lap! Right. Into. Our. Lap! And she'll only ever have eyes for us!_

* * *

 **NEXT CHAPTER PREVIEW:**

"You see, that sounds like a load of shit to me. Your words don't have any special power. Your guilt, however, does. I'm blind because I took a rather big bump to the noggin, not because you made a joke a few minutes before I came spiraling in. Bad things happen, and you've all latched onto it being your words fault, your own fault. It's all self-fulfilling prophecy, and trust me on this one, those things never end well. I'm blind and the healer doesn't know if it will heal or if my sight will ever come back. So? I have my family now, something I've always wanted. Dreamed of. If being blind is the price I have to pay for that, then I would pay it a thousand times over."

* * *

 **QUICK NOTE ON THIS CHAPTER:**

 **Can you really go blind from a bump to the head?**

Blunt trauma, even trauma that seems little, can cause a cerebral contusion (brain bruise), where by definition there is some degree of bleeding into and swelling of the brain tissues. As a result of the trauma, it can easily cause a malfunction in that area of the brain. If it is the area of the brain that controls vision, it can easily cause blindness. This sort of injury could easily happen with a blow to the back of the head or can occur after a fall where the back of the head strikes a wall, the floor, stairs, or almost anything else. So yes, you can go blind if you hit your head in the right spot.

 **Harri's scars:**

I got the information for Harri's scars from the Potter wiki, so take it with a line of salt, but I wanted them added so I'm waving creative license here!

 **Does Harri have grey eyes?**

In this she does. You see, in the book, Harry looks the spitting image of his father, but has his mothers eyes. Since I gender-bent this story, I thought it would be pretty cool to swap that trait too. So, in this, she looks a lot like her mother, but has her fathers eyes. I hope this doesn't bother people too much, but I wanted to twist a few things and this is one of the things I couldn't leave well enough alone.

 _If anyone has any questions, don't hesitate to ask! Engaging with my readers is one of the highlights of writing fics, at least, to me it is!_

* * *

 ** _A HUGE, SMAUG SIZE THANK YOU_** to all of those who reviewed, followed and favourited! To be honest, this chapter was a bit of a bitch to get out (You don't want to know how many time's I've re-wrote this damned chapter), and I'm still not entirely happy with all of it, but I'm pretty happy with where it ended. Either way, I hope you all liked it!

 _ **As always, drop a review!**_ and until next time, stay beautiful! ~AlwaysEatTheRude21


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